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He’d thought to wait to tell her the next bit later, but he wanted to see her eyes sparkle with mischief. He’d missed it so much. “And then then night after, I’ve got something especially wicked planned…”
“What?”
He gave her his most sinful smile. “Whatever event your mother has planned, cry off. I’ll meet you in the garden at eleven.”
“Meet me in the garden,” she gasped. “What do you mean?” Her eyes were wide, her lips parted in surprise. He stared down at her, drinking her in. He’d missed everything about her.
He yearned to pull her close, kiss her again. But he couldn’t. Not here. “You’ll see, Red. Just be ready and don’t get caught.”
“Ethan,” she hissed and this time it was she who moved closer. Inwardly, he crowed with triumph. She came alive whenever he mentioned ill deeds. He loved that about her.
Her breath was rapid, her neck exposed as she looked up at him, her hand coming to his chest. His skin tingled under her touch. “Tell me.”
“I’ll explain at the Prices’ ball tomorrow night. How is that?”
She cocked her head to the side, though he noted she didn’t move back. His hand was still at her waist, and he shifted her closer till until her stomach rested on his. “I shouldn’t. Just meeting you in the garden is enough for me to be ruined for certain.”
He touched her cheek then. Just the smallest brush with the tips of his fingers. She leaned in to the touch in the most satisfying way. “Tell me the truth. Is a masquerade ball on your list?”
Her eyes lit. He watched them turn to fire and his own body responded. “How did you know?”
“You’re keeping your promise and I’m keeping mine. That’s what matters.”
She nipped at her lip. “You haven’t been drinking?”
“No. Promise.”
She looked away and then back at him, her eyes crinkled at the corners. “If you decide to leave again, will you just tell me next time?”
“I thought you didn’t want me?” But some part of him roared in satisfaction. He didn’t want to hurt her, and he was sorry that he had. But he also appreciated that she cared enough that he could. Was that wrong?
“You kissed me,” she whispered. “No man has ever…” She tapered off, looking away again.
He deflated, realizing how rejected she much have felt. “I’m sorry, love. I wasn’t rejecting you, I just…” He could lie, tell her there had been urgent business. But the truth was more important. He didn’t want to deceive her and that should have set off alarm bells. “I wasn’t supposed to like you, Red, and the fact that I do, it’s a problem.”
She nodded absently. “I understand. I don’t want to like you, either.”
But she did. Where that left them, he wasn’t entirely certain, but at least he had a few more chances to find out.
“Tomorrow night, then.”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Will Kingsley be with you?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “You’ll have to ask my mother.”
He intended to. At intermission, he planned to utilize every weapon in his rakish arsenal to convince the countess that he was a viable suitor.
He’d start by hinting at the great fortune he was about to inherit and finish with a promise of a most wonderful dowager house. He’d be escorting Natalie to the next several events…
And Kingsley—that man could kiss his arse.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next evening, Natalie stood in the foyer of her uncle’s London town house, her brows up as her mother gave Ethan the widest smile.
“Lord Somersworth,” the other woman gushed. “How wonderful to see you.”
